Cup of Temptation
by RedWingedAngel002
Summary: Huh. Surprising, how simple that was for him to say, despite his brooding nights contemplating of how and when he would relieve his said affections. Maybe she was right; maybe he was drunk? One-shot. MxY.


A Munto Fanfiction: Cup of Temptation © RedWingedAngel002  
><span>Disclaimer<span>: Munto; Sora Miageru Shōjo no Hitomi ni Utsuru Sekai © Kyoto Animation; Yoshiji Kigami and Tomoe Aratani  
><span>Genre<span>: Fantasy and Romance  
><span>Summary<span>: Huh. Surprising, how simple that was for him to say, despite his brooding nights contemplating of how and when he would relieve his said affections. Maybe she was right; maybe he was drunk? One-shot. MxY.

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><p><span>AN: Well, would look at that? I'm graduating next month in December. I was hoping to have many more stories written and completed by this stage of my life. :[  
>Writer's block is still an ongoing struggle, my fellow readers. I can't promise how often I'll update, since the future is kinda in the open with various opportunities, but I'll do my best. Thank you for your patience.<br>As for the following story, take it as an extension of the final movie, rather than just two days.

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><p><span>Songs<span>: _I Wanna Be Yours_ by: Arctic Moneys, _Things We Don't Know About_ by: Blue October, _Breath of Life_ by: Florence and the Machine, _Desire _by: Poets of the Fall, and _Runaway _by: Silverstein

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><p><span>Japanese Index<span>:  
>-hime: Princess<p>

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><p>"Talking."<br>_'Thinking.'  
>MemoriesFlashbacks._

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><p><span>One-Shot: Smitten<span>

The winter wrapped like a cloak, the night's phantom hands unveiling the moon, gibbous and waning, as it gradually rose above the silver-painted cloudbank. The orbiting rock provided light and spilled long shadows across the pillared throne room, to where the Magical King sat, occupied by his rummaging thoughts.

Munto took another sip of his goblet at hand, swishing the bittersweet liquid across his tongue and swallowed. The substance burned his throat, but he was not concerned as long as the effects took place—as long as the haunting whispers were silenced—all was sustainable. Heavenly Beings may not require the necessities of consuming physical substance, for Akuto was their life source, but the function was still able. It was mandatory for him to have at least one cup before retiring to bed, if sleep were kind.

However, as of late rest was more difficult than the norm; it now robbed the string of patience he would provide when accommodating with the remaining three Elders of their scattered United Army when they welcomed him back to their alliance. He was surprised to hear that the Admiral was let go of his position, which was why he even gave them a sparing benefit of the doubt; they were trying to change.

Yet of course, there was a price towards their bargain. They wanted Yumemi, with her reservoir power, to restore sense to the war-haste royals across their lands. The thought of their pawing tactics and cloy mind-games, directed solely upon the innocent girl, made his skin crawl. In other words, they wanted her on the battlefield, where she—_out_ of his _reach_—would be intertwined within the politics of Heaven's ever-weaving grasp. She would be _unprotected_.

They did not understand the frailty of her situation. Without any consideration beyond their own sin-tainted world, Gntarl had already provided hundreds of casualties towards her race. More blood would be shed, if need it be, for their victory to succeed.

If they simply_ trusted _him for once, making their future anew would be not such a difficulty.

Munto's stomach turned at the wretched proposal from that early morn, reprimanding how history tended to repeat itself in their past ancestors examples, and took another numbing gulp, only to find the contents empty. A sigh of frustration escaped the restless king and he massaged the bridge of his nose to will himself upon something more pleasant, while he gazed upon the ominous golden streak across the sky, which would soon be his destination that following day.

Almost instantly, the thought of Yumemi came to mind and snuffed the rage within his breast. No longer were his veins chilled with hesitation—the unspeakable fear of her indefinite existence—for she _was_ here, protected, and in his reach. She was safe and secure. And yet…

Yet, he could not help but to dwell upon these new feelings, which had gradually consumed his heart. He was uncertain how to approach her of it, let alone himself.

With a flick of his wrist, a pitcher of wine evaporated from the air, adorned with woven gold engravings, and poured into the basin, which then winked away under his will when the task was complete.

There was a creek at the door, which echoed across the hallway and called for his attention. He turned to the lone figure who so boldly disrupted him at such an hour, and his red brows skewed together. A light fret set in when he realized it was said girl who consumed his previous thoughts, illuminated by the entry's glass lanterns.

"Yumemi." He gave a nod of acknowledgment, façade in place. "What brings you here?"

"H-hi. I, ah…" Her eyes became wide and doe-like, as if caught wrong handed, and gave a brisk curtsy. She started to fidget under his scrutiny. "I wanted to say good night."

He found it odd that she were not in garbed in sleeping attire, yet donned within the pink dress gifted by his finest seamstresses. Honeyed locks were unbound from their braid, fanned across her cheeks and cascaded down her back in waves. His breath caught, for the attire enhanced her blossoming curves and shimmered under the milky light, appearing celestial, one suitable for his world.

He should have simply bid her farewell as she had so requested, this her second night away from home, before he did something regrettable in his current state. Yet Munto found himself acting before consciousness caught stride, and he positioned his perched leg to a more respectable fashion.

"It's late. Is everything all right?" the redhead asked with genuine concern, knowing the night could bring one's most malevolent thoughts.

She cast her gaze to the floor, inspecting the reflective marble there, and nervously bit her lip. "It's so_ different_ here. I needed something a little familiar, so I thought maybe…"

His pulse skipped a beat. Trust was what came to mind. For her to lay such consolation upon him provided that same frugal warmth to creep within his chest once again. With this, he beckoned her over with humbled softness.

"Come. Sit with me."

Yumemi accepted his invitation, pressing the tower-wood entrance closed, and silk at hand, padded up the long steps with such delicate grace it was almost too painful for him to bear.

The wine's buzz had him entertained at her silent revelation, knowing for fact that there was no other seat available. His hand opened forward, an offering, and the accompanied bracelet twinkled in intent for contact. She eyed it in remembrance, and tugging at the small fingers within his grasp, she fell into his lap with a squeak.

"I-I'm sorry! I—" Yumemi flushed and clammy palms recoil away from his maroon tunic. "Maybe I should go—"

"Relax," the king chided and nudged her back towards his support. He enjoyed her closeness, and noted her chilled frame. "I'm not going to do anything indecent; you have my word."

An owlish blink set forth at his declaration and her chin protruded with a guarded look. "…Are you drunk?"

"Am I?" He tipped his glass towards her challenge.

"You're talking with conjunctions, for one…"

His mouth twitched at her keen observance, while the dome husked his laugh before taking a taste. "Tipsy. It keeps the demons at bay."

Yumemi knew his past, and in this intimate knowledge, she looked so forlorn and quietly begged her pardon.

He waved off the apology. "Keep me company."

A pocket of silence settled over the royal hall.

"About this morning, in the greenhouse," she breathed in a whisper for two, "When you, um, kissed my hand?"

Interest perked, his eyes scoured her close and he regarded her with calculated mischief, "What of it?"

"Is that normal here?" The pitch in her voice escalated, heat dappling across her cheeks.

"It depends." His suave tone added onto her nervousness, however, he wanted to keep her guessing.

Her worrisome vision then narrowed. "You're being vague. Tell me!"

A grin followed suit. Funny how she too bristled by the one thing he most detested when it came towards social mingling.

"Very well; it varies between the situation. For one, it could be in respect of a higher acquaintance, as one does with royalty, or in the matter of how a gentleman greets a lady."

She looked taken aback. "I see. But I'm not of noble blood?"

He rests his chin on the row of knuckles closest to her, seeing no boundary in the protocol norm for personal space. The hopeful thought of _someday_ flickered passed. Oh, how foolish was he to be so smitten.

"Mmm. A Princess in the least. You deserve that much for saving my nation and ending our war."

"It's not over yet, Munto…"

"A work in progress, then."

She was doubtful, cocking her head slightly to his right. "Are you sure that's how it works?"

"It does when _I_ give say." He was glad to see her giggle at that.

"What about Ryueri? I didn't see you k-kissing her or any other girls?"

True, she was his late mother's apprentice. He took a moment to gather his thoughts. "Ryueri and I have a mutual respect for one another, but she is Prophetess, while I, King. She is family to me more than anything. A different impression is acquired for us."

Her nose scrunched. There were more questions settling within her eyes, but she held her tongue.

"As for the other ladies of the court," Munto occupied himself with his glass, skimming the smooth brim in a circular motion until it hummed at the attention. "It is not necessary unless I want to make my intentions to be clear."

"…Intentions?"

Bullion met with her fond gaze, the ever-growing dusk at her cheeks, and curled fingertips at her thundering breast. He could feel it too, a distant echo in his own. Finally, after taking one last gulp for courage, the goblet was placed aside and onto the armrest of his throne.

"Yes, my intentions. Perhaps I am a romantic at heart, knowing the afflictions this may cause in our current circumstance, but I believe you've earned my utmost truth." Hesitantly, Munto brushed a stray hair at her brow back into place and withdrew himself before giving in to the temptation of touching her skin. "It appears I have fallen for you, Yumemi."

Huh. Surprising, how simple that was for him to say, despite his brooding nights contemplating of how and when he would relieve his said affections. Maybe she was right; maybe he was drunk?

The blonde's realization flooded in the permanent shade of pink, while her mouth parted agape, contorting in the expression of anxiety, confusion, and hope.

"What…?"

His tongue flickered to wet his sudden parched lips. "My fondness for you—"

"No, I understand. But… _Why?_" Munto's jaw set in distaste. "I mean, you're _you_, and I'm just… me."

"_Exactly_. You are _you_." He took her pleading silence to continue on and leaned back in astonishment, his firm middle brushing against the cool, finely cut stone. "I believe each of our outlooks are different than the other. Tell me, how do you view yourself as?"

Eyes of emerald turned towards the moon, shadows spilling across her profile, striking and serene, yet a distant storm brewed within. It was three heartbeats-full did she finally answer.

"I honestly don't have any confidence in myself or any power, but even so, I want to protect my family and friends. I want to see the future you all are trying to open. That's why… I'm here." Her last cord sounded uncertain.

"Well, I beg to differ. You're much stronger than you think." She gave her attention to him once more, sad and longing for reassurance. "Have you forgotten? You broke thought the continuum with your own will. You had managed to pass the wall of time by believing in your own strength, something even I was incapable of doing."

She watched her twiddling thumbs folded in her lap.

"Trust in that fire of yours, Yumemi." His pointer finger tapped at her breastbone in emphasis and tipped her wavering chin upward. "You have the heart that can give birth to all of which you dream of. _That _is what had intrigued me about you: your courage, sincerity, and the bonds you have towards your loved ones."

He was weighed by her silence, and thus when his words finally sunk in she stood abrupt, paces back, and out of his reach. There was a pained expression reflected there.

"I don't get it. I don't understand!" her timid voice then shrilled, "If that is how you feel, then why are you telling me _now?_"

Golden irises widened at her snip remark. Panic sets hard and cold in his chest, for he was not expecting her to be_ angry_. An arm extended forward.

"Yume—"

"I waited!" Her knuckles twisted firmly together, until they shook white. "I was waiting, Munto! You turned my world upside down and left me with nothing but questions. I couldn't move on! Those _visions _and voices…! I really thought I had gone crazy!" The kindled brilliance in her green-flame was washed away, brimming with tears, until her breath came in short pants, and she faltered with a sob. Her fists tried to wipe the evidence away, while she whimpered miserably, "I waited…"

In a quick succession of steps, Munto withdrew himself from his chair, and grasped at her coverlet crown to press the shaking girl to his fickle-beating heart.

"There was a _reason…!_" he hissed, teeth gritting at his poor excuse, and pets her for comfort. "I could _not__—!_ I—!"

A small noise escaped and the warmth of her submits into his grasp. Wetness dampened his chest.

He held her closer than he would have ever dared and he found it difficult to keep focused. The redhead sighed, his conscious in rebuttal against the _need_ to care for this lone girl between what was right, and placed a hand at her left shoulder, only to offer a light squeeze when the quivering ceased.

"I am sorry for hurting you so, Yumemi. Will you hear to my plea?"

She chanced to look upward, so he may catch her tapering tears and brush them away at the petal-damp surface. Akuto hummed under the callous pads with their contact, and though she held a bated expression, Yumemi nodded affirmative.

His shoulders dip in relief, abound by her mercy, and he tugged her by the nook of her arm to sit at their previous arrangements. Despite the wine's coax, a wave of anxiousness spread hot at his nape. He was not one to express his feelings with others; however, this was crucial for them both.

He found her palm, so small and tender, and cradled it. "During that time, when our paths had crossed, I saw something: the _heart_ of your past and the emotions, which followed. Through space and time, I had become inexplicably bound to you. Though the Akuto-crisis had been restored, our future could only be obtained with completing the cycle. I knew that could only come to be with you by my side."

His breath shook slightly when envisioning her outstretched arm, his name her final cry, and her starburst shell behind closed lids. "However, I was granted a vision, one of which had _terrified_ me so. Your life was at stake, Yumemi. If I had reached out to you again, it would likely be your last."

Her face paled and he did not realize he was clenching his fist until it bites into his palm. She blankets a hand over their entwined grasp to ease.

"I am willing to do anything to end this God forsaken war, but you, I cannot not take that risk… even if it meant pushing you away. You gave me a _reason_ to fight. When I discovered Gntarl's plan to take your city, I was _furious_. This feeling for you shook me; it was only of late that I had come to realize what it meant."

He raked an aggravated hand through long firelocks, both spelled by the intensity of his words, and he huffs at his own nervousness.

"I love you, Yumemi, most ardently. I want to protect you and your everything," Munto claimed with grave seriousness and his lip pressed into a firm line. He squeezed her hand. "I understand if these affections are not mutual, I wouldn't ask more than you can give, and gladly wish to keep our friendship."

Her expression shifts, mind clicking behind green moons, and it takes her longer than expected to react. Another wave of tears well, and in a swift motion, she launched herself around his neck. His empty glass would have broken that high-strung quiet if it were not for his keen reflexes. He caught the molded metal and placed it on the armrest, very much aware of her overall closeness. His hands steady her, warm and firm around her arms, and they linger more than need be.

"Thank you," she whispered into his collar and it was enough to make his breath come short. She laughed then, a wavering warble, which relieves his tension, and he embraces her. The scent of her hair was sweet and pleasant against his nose and he cherished her short-lived intimacy. However, her answer was not laid in stone. Not wanting to reap this moment, it quietly paints thick on his tongue until his throat grows raw in anticipation. Desperately, he _needs_ to know.

"Say it," Munto almost begs.

Instead, she ends their shared warmth, guided his hand over her heart to find soft flesh and silk, and he feels the palpitating muscle hammering just as hard as his.

"I love you." A true smile is shown there. "Don't worry, I forgive you for the wait."

The sharp heave caused his ribs to ache, and he gave no attempt to hide his vulnerability when relief washed over and a shaken chuckle escaped him in backlash. To_ love_… It was so beautiful and dangerous.

He drifted toward her, not predatorily, but cautiously, as he expected the possibility of her to run still, until their foreheads touch. "May I kiss you?"

She warms and thick lashes wane downwards. He could feel her breath excruciatingly tempting against his lips, and treaded on the idea of closing that space, but grabbed her wrist instead. Yumemi blinks awake, surprise pursing her mouth when he caressed the top of her hand. A light pucker whispers from their connection, and he grins at her flustered look.

"It will be my honor."

A bubbling giggle fit later, she indulged in to kiss him on the cheek. The feeling of it, pressed feather light, caused his blood to sing, and she was in his arms once more. Companionable silence overcomes the two, and she curls into him, knees at her chest, as one does when withering the cold against a flickering flame, and he pecked quiet pleasantries at her temple.

"Precious girl. My Little Dreamer…"

Yumemi's breath begins to even. "You're making me sleepy."

"A throne is not supposed to be comfortable."

"Mmm… But you are," she yawned half-heartedly.

His chuckle caused a rumble against her ear, but his grouse holds seriousness when in remembrance of red-muddled Pools comes forth, "It's best you rest well; tomorrow Ryueri will be preparing you."

Yumemi agreed, craning from under his jaw, and with a determined look, she indicates to the empty glass, "You too. No more of _this_. You'll make me worry."

The king watched her for a long moment, contemplating on foretelling her his proposal on extending the entity they created, but he decided against it, so she may _sleep_.

"Alright. We'll part halfway."

He pat her back to initiate their departure and she slid off to smoothen the crinkles at her rear's hem. Golden irises peer a glance at her shadow's silhouette when she does this, splayed dark against the marble, and he bites a grunt when his legs fail to cooperate. Yes, definitely enough wine for one night.

She grabbed his arm to crutch him, skin against leather. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Munto attempted to ignore the warmth at his nape, shameful both at his lack of grace and immodest behavior.

"How many of those did you have?"

"Three, I believe," he bobbed his head in affirmative, wild mane unraveled and swaying, and was doubtful on the fact that he could handle himself better when under the influence of a few glassfuls. Something told him it was not just that, which had him stumbling on his feet. He peered down at the girl's petite height and realized she was most _definitely_ more powerful than let on. Oh, he was in trouble.

Her shared gaze shied away and she slipped her hand in his when he initiated an escort, footfalls clicking across the pathway until the throne room is filled with nothing but column shadows.

A front her door, they both pause. She could rest in a fitful room this night, which he knew was accompanied by the finest quits available in the Magical Kingdom. Given a day, the maids organized proper bedding, opening an intact gentry chamber, unlike the eve before, while she were lulled in pull-string slumber within his grasp.

Warm eyes waver on her lips before they drift back to see rogue peppered there. His jaw twitches with concealed laughter, and he too reflects her previous exchange, bowing in the chaste contact.

"Dream well, Yumemi-hime," his tone drops against the peach-softness at her ear, and he leaned back, spine poised once more, to stroke her jaw affectionately.

The girl was merry and starlight, beaming. Her hands fold to her chest, which inflates with a content sigh and emotion. "Good night, Munto."

He grins at her still, even her, a mere waning sliver, and the guest quarters are closed shut. Once her pattering dissipates does his forehead press against the surface for a faltering moment in disbelief—he was hers, as she his—and then his lips fall.

There was no way in hell the United Army would take _this_ from him. Yumemi made him _want_ to return, and that was enough to break any obstacle in his way. The thought had him brushing fingertips at her door, securing that it was locked, and his determination burning for her care.

_"Do not let the Heavens fall, Munto. Never let go of those hands you have grasped. Farewell."_

The hurt was still raw and he bowed his head in respects towards the fallen Outsider, whom at the end of his wake he called friend.

"I finally understand now, Gas. The one I should protect is already here," he whispered to himself.

In the pivot of his heel, Munto strides towards his lavished chambers, waving the gossamer drapes closed, and stripped down, while vowing to be open like this towards her—no alcohol in the equation—from now on, against the cold, silken sheets.

Of course, he gained a bare wink of sleep, but the restlessness was full of hopeful possibilities for their future, rather than the burdened nightmares of his past.

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><p><span>AN: Believe it or not, I started this in 2011. The original plot was Yumemi as the confessing drunk, but I didn't quite like Munto coaxing that upon a minor, so we got him to be the chatterbox instead.  
>And no, I haven't forgotten about my other stories. <em>Waiting For You<em> has yet to be continued on, but I am determined to get something out by the fifth upcoming anniversary, January 24th. For others, I'll write what I can when inspiration comes. Cheers.

—Ari [11.4.14]


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